From Paris with Love
by markspectre
Summary: A new ancestor for Desmond to explore and a new Piece of Eden to look for, this time during the French Resistance of WWII. Rated M for violence (mostly interrogation/torture) and some strong language.


From Paris with Love

By: Mark Spectre

_**Hello, readers. The other day, I was struck with the inspiration to write an_ Assassin's Creed _fanfic. Remember in _Raiders of the Lost Ark _when the Nazis are searching for the Ark of the Covenant? They actually did that in real life, as well as search for the Holy Grail, the shroud that Jesus was buried in, and a bunch of other religious relics. Well, since Hitler was a Templar, what if the Ark and those other things were actually Pieces of Eden? And what if the Assassins were still determined to save the Pieces from the Templars? That's the basic premise of this story. Read on, and please review afterwards.**_

_PS: I wrote the second section in a rather different style, more akin to a movie script than a novel. The dashes at the start of a line (-) indicate when a different person is speaking than the one who spoke the previous line(s). It's something that I wanted to try out, and I don't think it's too hard to follow. Feedback on the style would be greatly appreciated._

* * *

**August**_** 15, 1944. Paris, France**_

Michael Cooper and John, his companion, walked down one of Paris' many windy, half-flooded alleys attempting, with little success to keep dry and warm. The rainstorm had escalated to something approaching a gale and showed no sign of letting up in the near future. The two men continued their conversation in an awkward style, trying simultaneously to shout over the noise of the storm and keep their voices low, lest any ever-present eavesdroppers discover what they were about to do.

"My god!" shouted Michael. "It hasn't rained this hard in ages. This is a bloody awful night to be hunting for a Kraut."

"Oi, don't complain, Mr. Cooper," said John. "I've been out in this mess for the past four hours carrying letters. You've been in it for one, and you're much younger than I am. Buck up, lad."

"I'm also much smarter, _Mr. Edgecombe_," said Michael, imitating John's thick British accent with a smile. "I'm telling you, this is a waste of time."

"You Yanks give up far too easily, I've always said so," said John, smiling as well. "Trust me, lad, our man will be here."

"Why? Any officer in his right mind is tucked away in some cozy pub or café someplace playing cards and chatting with his mates on a night like this," exclaimed Cooper.

"Aye, that's usually true," agreed Edgecombe. "But when a tall, blonde, 18 year-old Parisian lass with breasts the size of grapefruits offers you what's between her legs, you'll walk 10 miles in weather worse than this to get to it. He'll be here."

Michael couldn't help but agree. "With assets like that, you could only be talking about Olivia," he said. "Unless we've recently added more tall, blonde, 18 year-old Parisians to our ranks?"

"Indeed, I am referring to Miss Olivia," answered John. "Speaking of which: I don't give a damn what the two of you do behind closed doors, but if we're all sitting at the pub and I can see you reach your hand up her skirt, so can any Kraut who happens to be in the pub with us. Her job is to seduce German officers for the purposes of espionage or assassination, and if Jerry sees you fingering his CO's mistress, that's attention that we could all do bloody well without. Got it?"

"Got it," Michael answered.

"Alright, we're here," said John. "Now all that's left is to wait."

The two men stood quietly in the shadows of the alley, waiting for their mark. Interestingly, while the two were often confused for father and son, the two men shared no relation. John Edgecombe was a British merchant in his mid forties, Michael Cooper, an up and coming American businessman in his early twenties. Both had ended up working with the French Resistance, though under different circumstances. John had been an officer for the British intelligence during the First World War, who had retired from the military upon its completion. He had found himself in France on vacation during the start of the German occupation, and was recruited by the Resistance due to his skill at making people disappear with a minimum of fuss.

Michael had been in France attempting to finalize a business deal when the occupation began, and found himself unable to leave the country. After sending a telegram home explaining his situation, he went underground in Paris, volunteering to fight with the Resistance. He proved to be a natural at John's line of work, and that, combined with the fact that resembling John's son could be an extremely effective disguise, meant that the two of them worked almost exclusively together. Both men had a memorable, yet easy to forget appearance: roughly six feet in height, athletic build, and slightly dark complexion, John's: a gift of his Italian heritage on his mother's side, and Michael's: the result of having American Indian ancestors, specifically from the Mohawk tribe.

The two men often did the usual work of the Resistance: assassinate officers, harass the German military presence, steal information relative to German operations, etc. However, there was also another line of work within the Resistance that very few people knew about, including most members themselves. This line of work involved hunting down certain artifacts that the Germans were interested in acquiring. Very little was known about these items among the rank and file of the Resistance, except that they were supposedly quite powerful, and that it would be very bad if the Germans were actually able to acquire any.

The group of men and women responsible for hunting these objects were quite secretive as well, interacting very little with the rest of the Resistance. They could all be immediately identified by a strange scar encircling their left ring fingers, and this badge of sorts was a clear indication that they weren't to be trifled with. It was this item hunting that found Michael and John in the alley on that particular night.

After about 5 minutes had passed in silence, the target, a Gestapo officer, walked out of the rear door of a pub into the alley and began walking away from John and Michael.

"This is it," said John. "The bastard's right on schedule. Remember, we need him alive."

"Right," said Michael. "You do your thing, mate. I'll cover you from above."

With that, Michael quickly scaled the side of the nearest building and climbed up onto the roof. From there, he began following the officer, using the roofline as his path, while John began to creep up behind the target.

"Is there something I can help you with?" asked the German before whirling around and firing his Luger at John's chest. John barely dove out of the way of the shot, and the German began sprinting through the alley. Just before he got out of sight, John fired a shot from his Webley revolver at the officer's calf and was rewarded by a scream of pain. The German continued running as fast as his injured limb would allow, screaming for help to anyone who might hear him.

"God damn it!" swore Michael as he took off in a sprint across the rooftops. Jumping from roof to roof, Michael was able to cover considerable distance in a short time and soon found himself slightly ahead of the German. Watching the officer from above, Michael calculated the man's speed and, after a brief pause, jumped off of the roof.

_WHAM!_

Michael came down directly on target from 15 feet up, landing squarely on top of the German officer and driving him down to the cobblestones. Both of the officer's legs shattered from the force of the impact, and he began screaming louder than ever. Michael quickly delivered a savage blow to the man's head with a wooden baton, knocking him into unconsciousness.

John came running up to the scene as Michael was binding the German's hands with a length of rope and taking his weapons.

"Very good. Very good job indeed," said John.

"Good job?" Michael asked incredulously. "Are you out of your mind? He probably alerted half the fucking neighborhood with all that screaming. Why the fuck did you shoot him in the leg?"

"He was a fast runner," replied John. "I wasn't sure you could catch him _and_ get a drop on him."

"That's why I was waiting further down the alley with a tripwire and a cricket bat," said Olivia as she walked down the alley toward the three men. "Now if you two are finished arguing, let's get this sack of shit off the streets before the _polizei_ get here."

* * *

_**Later, that same night**_

Miles, a British interrogator for the Resistance and Holocaust survivor, walks into the cellar where the German is tied to a chair. Cooper and Edgecombe are present as well.

-"C'mon, you miserable piece of shit. Wake up."

_Splash!_ The German is doused with icy water.

"I said wake up!"

_Smack! _The unmistakable sound of a fist against flesh.

-"What the fuck do you dogs want from me?"

The German spits on the floor and then screams in pain as a short-bladed knife slashes across his face.

-"Oi, fuck-face. Spit on my floor again, and I swear to bloody Christ, I'll flay the skin off your prick."

He pulls out a pair of pliers.

"Curse at us again, and I'm yankin' a tooth."

"Refuse to answer a question, I draw some blood. Keep refusin', and I start playin' surgeon."

"Answer all of our questions, and we'll let you live. Keep you alive 'till the Allies get 'ere, then turn you over as a prisoner o' war."

"Lie to us, and we know where your family is. We'll 'ang your children from the Eiffel Tower, and feed your wife to the dogs. Send what's left of her to her mum and dad."

-"What could I possibly know to make you impose such conditions?"

-"You're about to find out, you sodding cunt."

"Question one: Where is the Ark?"

-"I don't know what you're talking about."

_Smack!_

-"Don't fuck with me, Kraut! We know the Nazis have spent years and a bloody fortune diggin' it up. Where is it?"

-"Not even for the sake of myself and my family would I compromise its security. It's going to win us this war."

-"Win you the war? You Krauts lost the war back on June 6th when the Allies hit the beach. It's only a matter of time now."

-"So why are you so desperate to have the Ark?"

-"Because you bastards will use it to do as much damage as possible before the inevitable surrender. If you get it working. Where is it?"

-"I don't know."

_Smack! _Another punch, and Miles picks up a cleaver.

-"You're pretty fucking stupid aren't you, Jerry? I'm goin' to ask you again. You keep fuckin' with me, I'm takin' your right thumb. Where is the Ark?"

-"Please, I swear, I don't kn—" _THUNK! "Aaaaaaaaghhhhhhhh!"_

-"Your whole fuckin' hand is next, you cunt. I swear to God I'll chop it off! Where is the Ark?!"

-"Please, I'm not of a high enough rank to know such things, they don't tell me. I swear to God I don't know where it is. Please!"

-"Right, Mr. Cooper, stretch out his 'and, please—"

-"NO! No, I swear I don't—"

-"For a man who don't know nothin' about the Ark, you did an awful lot of braggin' in that pub about how you did know. That's how we decided to grab you. Now, I'm going to cut off your hand, and then ask you one more time. If you still don't know, then you're of no use to me, and I'm going to shoot you in the head right 'ere."

-"No, wait! Bradl. Bradl!"

-"Bradl? What is that? Is that an officer? A politician?"

-"Scientist. Johann Bradl. He's a scientist who works with Mengele. They're the ones who are trying to get the Ark of Eden working. Find him, find the Ark."

-"Where is he?"

-"Only Mengele knows. Mengele doesn't even know where the Ark is. Just where Bradl is. Bradl knows where the Ark is. We've heard rumors. They may be close to unlocking it."

-"Alright, Edgecombe, start figuring out how we get to Mengele. Cooper, get the prisoner some food and water. Oh, and Kraut, one more thing. When you wonder why I treated you like this, here's your answer: I know what you did to the Jews. So as far as I'm concerned, every damn one of you deserves this."

Miles gathers his things and begins walking out of the cellar.

-"Please, you think all of us are responsible for that? Most of us don't even hate the Jews, but what choice do we have? We're just following orders."

-"Hey, Cooper."

-"Yes?"

-"I've changed me mind. Strip 'im naked, cut off 'is privates, and 'ang him offa' one of the buildings. Make sure a crowd sees 'im."

-"Yes sir."

* * *

_**Present Day**_

"Desmond, Desmond, you with us again? It's time to wake up," said Rebecca.

"Woah. What the fuck did I just do?" asked Desmond as he climbed out of the Animus.

"We found another one of your ancestors, Desmond," Rebecca replied.

"Yes," chimed in Shaun. "Actually he's a direct descendant of Connor. Michael Cooper. He was an Assassin, and he worked for the French Resistance during World War II. The memory that you just experienced happened just a few days before the battle began to liberate Paris."

"And the Ark of Eden?" asked Desmond. "I assume we're going after that?"

"Yeah, we are," said Rebecca. "You probably know it as the Ark of the Covenant. You know, like from the _Indiana Jones_ movie? The Nazis recognized it as a Piece of Eden and they actually did steal it from its original Vault. The problem is, it was never accounted for after the war."

"Our best guess is that the French Resistance found it, and either hid it somewhere else, or destroyed it," said Shaun. "So, we're hoping that if you relive Mr. Cooper's memories, you'll discover where and in what condition the Ark is."

"Anyway," said Rebecca, "I'm going to start cooking dinner, and then we should all get a good night's sleep. We've got a lot of work to do in the morning."

Desmond buried his face in his hands. "Here we go again."

* * *

_**And there you have it. The start of another adventure for Desmond and co. I picture this taking place after ACIII, which is why I made direct and indirect references to Connor and his Mohawk heritage. Now, since ACIII is has yet to be released, the events of the game could make this scenario comically impossible, but for now, who knows? I currently consider this to be a plausible continuation of Desmond's story after ACIII. As for whether or not this story will continue, I'll leave it up to you, my readers. I think that this piece works both as a one-shot and as the first chapter to a longer story, and I do have some ideas floating around about how this would continue. So, if you want this to stay a one-shot, or if you want it to continue, make your voices heard in the reviews. (Also make your voices heard if you'd like to just comment on the story.) Thanks.**_

_-Mark Spectre_


End file.
